


Insult to Injury

by usherrthaaa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Confused Draco Malfoy, F/M, Funny, Good Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Injury, Magical Accidents, Memory Loss, Personality Swap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23808682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usherrthaaa/pseuds/usherrthaaa
Summary: “You're absolutely certain we have to help him?”“Yes, Ronald,” she snapped. “He's bleeding out.”“Well, it's kind of mostly his fault though, isn't it?” Harry muttered, rubbing at the back of his neck.Hermione so dearly wanted to agree. But there before them lay Draco Malfoy, with his limbs twisted awkwardly and the back of his head surrounded by a steadily growing pool of crimson blood.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 23
Kudos: 100





	1. The Incident

**Author's Note:**

> A playful fic I thought up to explore what it could be like to for two enemies to become friendly without going through the proper process.

“You're absolutely certain we have to help him?” 

Hermione huffed the bangs out of her eyes so that Ron could see her angry glare more clearly. “ _ Yes,  _ Ronald,” she snapped. “He's bleeding out.”

“Well, it's kind of mostly  _ his  _ fault though, isn't it?” Harry muttered, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

Hermione so dearly wanted to agree. But there before them lay Draco Malfoy, with his limbs twisted awkwardly and the back of his head surrounded by a steadily growing pool of crimson blood. His skin was quickly losing its already pale complexion and Hermione was fearing for his life, albeit very mildly. 

“We can't leave him like this,” she said firmly, hands on her hips. 

“He shouldn't have fallen out of that tree then,” Ron shrugged artlessly. 

Harry nodded. “Exactly! Why was he up there in the first place? Just to scare us? That's an awful lot of work for a dumb prank.”

“Don't kid yourself,” Ron snorted. “He was probably hoping to actually hurt us.”

“And now he's hurt himself,” Harry's laugh shook Hermione from her silence. 

“Alright you two,” she sighed. “Enough dawdling. He’ll be too heavy for a single  _ levicorpus _ so we’ll have to share the job. Ron, you levitate his head and I'll get his legs. Harry, you make sure you clean up our trail.”

“Trail?” her friend frowned, as she began to cast the charm upon Malfoy's bruised knees. 

“You heard me,” Hermione answered primly. “We’re going to get blood  _ everywhere _ .”

  
  


It was probably by the worst luck in the cosmos that they ran into Professor McGonagall on the way to the infirmary. She barely contained a screech at the sight of Malfoy's messy body floating through the air, and when she finally noticed the three of them Hermione knew it wasn't going to go down well.

“Can somebody  _ please  _ explain what's going on?” the Professor demanded, voice only bordering on shrilly. 

“Professor,” Harry quickly protested, sensing her train of thought. “We didn't do this to him.”

“Malfoy fell out of a tree!” Ron added hastily. “He tried to say something smart and throw a hex at us as we passed in the courtyard.”

Harry nodded his head as enthusiastically as he could. “And then he fell.”

McGonagall eyed them suspiciously for one lingering moment more before exhaling heavily.

“We're taking him to Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione supplied helpfully. 

The Professor sighed. “Has he hit his head?” 

“Quite badly,” Hermione winced, eyes darting to the small pool that was growing at their feet as Malfoy's wound kept bleeding. 

“Then we must hurry,” the Professor extracted her wand from her robes and swiftly took over levitating the injured boy. 

Ron sighed in relief but schooled his features when McGonagall directed a stern glance his way. 

“If this somehow gets back to Mr. Malfoy we will be in great trouble,” she said as she began to stride quickly towards the infirmary. “It was reckless of you three to take the boy to the infirmary yourselves.”

“We didn't think it would be right to leave him there,” Hermione frowned. “Even if it was so we could go get a teacher.”

“Yes well,” McGonagall huffed. “I'd dearly appreciate not having to deal with an irate Lucius Malfoy ranting about how three of my students had gruesomely disfigured his son and were parading him through the school.” 

Ron and Harry could barely contain their snickering. Hermione blanched. 

* * *

The infirmary was quiet and empty now and the only sound to accompany Hermione's thoughts was the rustling of the sheet under her weight. She sat on the edge of an empty cot, legs dangling over the side. The stiff sheet made an awful lot of noise when she swung her legs around, and even though she knew that Malfoy needed his rest, she didn't quite care much if he woke up.

_ “You can leave once he is awake and steadied.” _

That was what Professor McGonagall had said. Hermione grimaced at the memory. She should have known she'd be the one to be roped into overseeing Malfoy's recovery. For one, she was almost certain that McGonagall didn't truly believe their story of Malfoy falling out of the tree. It barely made sense that he'd even be in one. Some things had to be seen to be believed.

Secondly, the Professor would never have left Harry or Ron to this job- it's not as if she wanted  _ another _ fight. 

So that effectively left  _ her  _ as the only appropriate choice. Responsible and level-headed Prefect Hermione Granger. What joy.

She kicked her legs a little viciously at the thought, jostling the bed so hard that it creaked loudly on its metal hinges. The sound reverberated around the room, closely followed by a small groan.

Hermione stiffened. That had to be Malfoy. 

She tentatively pulled at the curtain separating his bed to watch his face twist into a frown. His eyes began to flutter and then they were open, staring up at the ceiling. 

“Oh good,” she managed to say stiffly. “You're awake.”

Strangely, Malfoy nearly jumped right out of the bed at her voice.

“Wha-?” he mumbled, looking at her with a strange sort of panic. 

Hermione felt a small pang of regret for being so rude. “Hey, calm down Malfoy. You're alright. You're in the infirmary.”

“Why?” he croaked, still staring at her with wild eyes. 

She hoped his next words weren't going to be related to calling his father. “Well. You… um, you took a nasty spill. From… from a tree.”

The Slytherin groaned again, low and long. “That's why my head feels like a Hippogryph sat on it.”

Hermione shifted her weight on her feet somewhat nervously. “Yes. I suppose so.”

The blond looked away from her to prod at his varying bandages and the smaller, exposed bruises before snapping his eyes back to glance her way curiously. 

“What are you here for?” he asked. 

Hermione paused in her shuffling. “I'm sorry… what?”

“You. Why are you in the infirmary?” Malfoy explained with what seemed like infinite patience. “Did you fall too?” 

“No!” Hermione quickly shook her head. “I brought you here. We saw you fall.”

“Oh,” Malfoy frowned, before cracking a small, lopsided grin. “Lucky me then.”

Hermione felt her stomach turn at the sight. It wasn't horrifying, no, but Malfoy  _ never  _ smiled.  _ Ever _ . And the fact that he was smiling… at  _ her _ nonetheless… made her feel a lick of fear. 

“Are you sure you're alright?” she asked nervously, clenching her hands to her sides to make sure she didn't wring them. 

Malfoy took a moment to scrunch his nose in thought. “Not at the moment, really. I feel like death warmed over. And my head hurts like a  _ bitch _ . I'll be fine soon though, thanks to your quick thinking.”

He smiled again, lazily, and Hermione  _ knew  _ something was wrong. 

“Malfoy, you're acting very strange,” she murmured, taking a careful step away from his bed. 

He looked outright crestfallen at the accusation. “Oh. Sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel weird. Just… accept my thanks then.” 

That made everything  _ worse _ . 

“You never apologise,” she said, almost to herself. 

Malfoy didn't hear, thankfully, and just continued to sadly pick at the ugly sheet that covered his legs and torso. “You don't have to stay anymore. I'll be fine.”

She had so wanted to hear those words but hadn't  _ dreamed _ that Malfoy would be the one letting her leave and thanking her in the same breath. It made her head spin most disconcertingly. 

But she couldn't leave now, could she? Malfoy might have gone bonkers. The right thing to do would be to call Madam Pomfrey. But she didn't want to waste anymore time on this horrid boy than she was instructed to. She had all the right to leave. 

“Before you go,” that wretched Slytherin piped up suddenly. “And I hope this won't come off as more strange… but could I at least have your name? For saving me?”

Hermione turned and fled. 

* * *

“That's hilarious! And then what happened?” 

“Ron, don't be a prick!” Hermione whined. “I just ran. I ran and ran till I found you two.”

The boys fell silent at that, before slowly erupting into small snickers. 

“Oh please tell me what to do!” Hermione groaned. “Malfoy might as well have lost his mind. He  _ smiled _ at me!” 

“EW!” Ron gagged. 

Harry shuddered. “Was it as slimy as I imagine it to be?”

“No,” Hermione snapped. “It was actually quite charming. I really think I might go back and make him smile again.”

The two Gryffindors sobered up from their mirth quickly, groaning at her words. 

“Don't be so stiff, ‘Mione,” Ron moaned. 

Even Harry shrugged. “He really did do this all to himself. And his intent had been to cause us  _ actual _ harm. Imagine if you were in the infirmary instead of him! He wouldn't wait for you to feel better and he wouldn't be so polite at all. In fact, he would have run the second you hurt yourself.”

“You're right, Harry,” Hermione sighed. “But he  _ is _ hurt, and very confused. We have to help him.”

“I say... I say we convince him that he's in Gryffindor,” Ron said slowly, face lighting up with a grin.

Hermione rolled her eyes hard. “I don't know why I came to you two for help.” 

She rose to leave the common room, followed by their loud retorts at her departure. 

“You knew we'd say terrible things so you could feel better about your plan!” Harry called out before the portrait closed, and he couldn't have been more right. 

* * *

Professor McGonagall looked even more harried than when she'd seen Malfoy bleeding out in mid air when Hermione finished telling her about the Slytherin’s behaviour. 

The Professor left her office swiftly, Hermione trailing in her wake as they made for the infirmary a second time. 

Madam Pomfrey was already there, administering potions to Malfoy, who sat quietly and pliantly under her care. 

This might have struck Professor McGonagall as odd right off the bat as she halted in her steps almost immediately. Malfoy heard them however, and turned to catch a glimpse of the newcomers. 

“You!” he said loudly. 

Hermione almost shrank behind the Transfiguration Professor.  _ Almost _ being the key word, for Malfoy's face somehow warmed at seeing her.

“You came back,” he gushed awkwardly. “I really didn't mean to come off like a right buffoon before. It must have been the headache. You alright?” 

Hermione's head swam again. 

“I see what you meant,” McGonagall whispered quietly, before striding up to the cot in which the blond sat. 

“Mister Malfoy,” she began briskly. “Do you know who this student is?” 

“Yes, she helped me get here-”

“No, you know her more than that. You two are rather well…  _ acquainted _ , should I say,” the older witch muttered.

The Slytherin raised his brows and then lowered them until his eyes were narrow. “We are?” 

“Yes,” the Professor prodded. “Think carefully.”

“She saved me after my fall,” he offered weakly.

“No, think before the fall,” McGonagall pushed, leaning forward in earnest. 

“Well, she's clearly a fellow classmate,” Malfoy said, flustered. “Is this a test? Oh it is one, isn't it? Great.”

“What do you remember about Miss.. about this girl?” Professor McGonagall asked again. 

Malfoy winced. “I remember that she's smart?”

The professor frowned.

“She's also a Prefect,” Malfoy added slowly. “Right? I'm right, aren't I?”

Hermione crossed her arms. “You just saw my badge.”

“Dammit. Will someone help me out? Am I in trouble for not knowing who you are?” Malfoy nearly pouted, looking forlorn.

She couldn't take it anymore. She could take the weird smiles and the strange conversation but she couldn't handle the thought of Malfoy- Draco Malfoy- being upset at not knowing her name. Frankly, the fact that he didn't know her at all was chilling enough. 

If he didn't remember her then they didn't have any history. And they had a lot of history. Too much to be erased over one afternoon. 

“It's me! Granger!” Hermione gasped, sick of this polite version of her most hated bully. “Hermione Granger, the muggleborn!” 

Malfoy’s eyes widened comically and then he cocked his head to one side, pondering. 

“Granger,” he tested, and his voice was all wrong. 

It wasn't the same as before and Hermione almost regretted telling him her name.

“That's right. The Gryffindor who hangs out with Potter. You're going to be Head Girl.”

Hermione started at that and couldn't help but glance at McGonagall, who expertly avoided eye contact. Malfoy watched the exchange and smirked, somewhat looking like his former self for a moment.

“Don't worry, Granger,” he said warmly. “It's practically guaranteed.”

Hermione worried. She worried indeed. Maybe not for the same reasons Malfoy supposed she did, but that wasn't important. She also wanted him to stop saying her last name like that. 

“Don't call me that,” she muttered defiantly. 

Malfoy seemed to get the wrong idea. “Oh. Are we on a first name basis then? Hermione.”

Merlin this was worse! She had to suppress a shudder at the sensation of Malfoy pronouncing her given name, and she couldn't help the wave of gooseflesh that made the hairs on her arms stand up. It was all wrong! He said it like he was testing a caramel taffy in his mouth, rolling it on his tongue. The idea made her blanch again. 

“You've got a real strange name, Hermione,” he continued, oblivious to her dismay. “ _ Hermione _ . Head Girl Hermione. You know… it's got a nice ring to it.”

Professor McGonagall coughed suddenly, moving to draw Madam Pomfrey to a side. The mediwitch looked very stricken at the sight of the extent of Malfoy's change in personality. She shakily kept a potion back on the bedside table and followed Professor McGonagall to a corner of the room, where they immediately began conversing in frantic, hushed tones. 

Hermione envied the distance they had between themselves and Malfoy. She wanted to be that far away from him as well. 

But this version of Malfoy wouldn't understand why she was being so rude, and that made her feel uncomfortable and very, very guilty.

“We aren't friends,” he said suddenly, and she turned to see him carefully observing her face. “And we’re not on a first name basis, are we?”

Hermione tried to swallow. “Why… why do you say that?” 

Malfoy shrugged lightly, moving so he could lean back against the headboard. He looked far too casual for a wizard of such high pedigree- his hair was messy from the bandages around his forehead and his shirt was untucked, dirty and crushed to high heaven. He looked…  _ normal _ . Like how Seamus and Ron would look after wrestling on the common room floor. Or how Neville looked after spending a night in the greenhouses because he forgot to leave his plants before curfew. It threw her for a loop.

“You just don't seem comfortable around me,” Malfoy mused, bringing her out of her thoughts. “And you look ready to puke when I say your name. I won’t say it. It must be awkward hearing a complete stranger refer to you like they know you.”

Hermione gulped. “A complete stranger.”

That's what he was now, wasn’t he? A perfect stranger to her. And she to him.

“The old bat seems to think we’re friends though,” he smirked suddenly, leaning forward swiftly, like as if they were sharing a secret. “I wonder why that is.”

Hermione tried not to move away from him too obviously. “Me too. Seems kind of strange. Maybe she’s trying to push inter house relations?”

Malfoy seemed to consider the idea. “Forcibly? How maladroit.”

“Maladroit?” she breathed, feeling dizzy.

What was he doing? Was he being  _ smart? _ Was Malfoy an actual  _ intellectual? _ Circe, help her. 

The Slytherin didn’t seem to notice her internal suffering. “You don’t agree? If throwing two complete strangers together is her idea of inter house unity, then Merlin save us all.”

“You mean you aren’t opposed to it?” Hermione sputtered, pulling away to glare at his startled grey eyes accusingly. 

“It’s heavy-handed but the idea is well placed,” he shrugged mildly, before noticing her confusion and slowly retreating. “Unless of course you think it would be terrible to be friends, in which case I think so too.” 

That startled a laugh out of her, sharp and amused. “No, no, that's not why I asked.”

Malfoy kept looking at her funny. “Is the idea of being my friend so appalling?” 

“The idea of  _ you _ wanting to be friends is what's boggling my mind,” she answered honestly, still confused about the fact that Malfoy had made her crack up.

The blond raised an eyebrow archly, looking very much disdainful of her sentiments. It was almost a sneer.

“What does that mean?” he asked carefully. 

“It means…,” Hermione began, trying valiantly to ignore the hurt swimming in his eyes. “It means you-,”

“Mister Malfoy, we have something of great import to discuss,” a strict voice interrupted suddenly. 

Professor McGonagall stood stiffly by the bedside, Madam Pomfrey wringing her hands behind her. The strict Professor gave Hermione a cursory glance, indicating that she should leave, before turning back to face Malfoy. Hermione took her nonverbal cue and began to backtrack her way out of the infirmary. She didn't want to be there when Malfoy was told that he’d hit his head hard enough to forget his whole personality. 

It was too messy. She was glad to have no responsibility for this part.

Except Malfoy seemed to understand that something was wrong and immediately latched onto Hermione's arm before she could move too far away. 

“She can stay, right?” he asked a little frantically. “It's not so bad is it? It's not so bad that Granger can't bear to hear it as well.”

Professor McGonagall’s eyes widened and she shared a look of concern with Madam Pomfrey that didn't go unnoticed by the students.

“I think it's best if Miss Granger leaves. Poppy, why don't you go round up Mister Potter and Mister Weasley. Take the three of them to Headmaster Dumbledore and I'll meet you all there when I'm done here.”

The Professor smiled tightly at the mediwitch before turning to close the curtains that hung around Malfoy’s bed. As the stiff cloth shut around them, Hermione watched the Slytherin’s look of worry fade out into a mask of cool indifference and wondered how much of Malfoy remained in himself and how much had seemingly vanished into thin air. 

* * *

The boys looked unhappy after leaving Dumbledore's office, and Hermione had to admit she didn't feel so great either. 

“I can't believe the Ferret managed to mess himself up so bad,” Ron grumbled as he kicked his shoes against the stone floor. 

Harry groaned and rolled his neck. “It's almost as if karma came back to kick his pale arse. Except we had to be there to see it. Why, oh  _ why _ couldn't we have just  _ not _ walked out into the courtyard?”

“You were the one who wanted to go watch Ginny do handstands for that dumb dare Lee made her do,” Hermione scowled. 

“Oh,” Harry paused. “Yeah. Drat. We missed that entirely didn't we?” 

Ron seemed rather pleased at that. “It's alright, she probably didn't miss us anyway. What do you reckon happened to Malfoy though?” 

Harry shrugged and looked to Hermione with an expectant gaze. 

She wished she had an answer. 

“I don't- I'm not sure actually,” she winced. “He's just not himself. I don't know what they're going to do about it.”

“Maybe they'll knock his head again to make it right,” Ron laughed. “Or wrong. Depends on how you look at it.”

Hermione couldn't disagree with that last bit.

“Maybe it will wear off,” Harry yawned, already looking bored of the conversation. “Who cares? It's not like anyone will miss his bigoted tripe.”

Hermione felt that she should argue; there was something inherently  _ wrong _ about Malfoy unknowingly being a decent person. About him not being aware of his change in persona. But she couldn't deny that his vile behaviour wouldn't be missed, so she shut her mouth and headed back to the dorms, determined to put this mess behind them. 

* * *

Luna was usually a quiet study partner. It was Ginny that never sat in silence, and was always restlessly fidgeting while Hermione tried her best to concentrate on homework. But despite this, Hermione was rudely drawn away from her Arithmancy essay when Luna gasped sharply, jolting upright as if she'd been shocked, before fluttering her hands over Hermione's parchment. 

The brunette looked up to throw a glare at the younger Ravenclaw, but found her staring at a distance behind them, transfixed by what she saw. 

Hermione swiveled her torso around to accuse the offending person but drew in a harsh breath at who she saw striding up towards them, cutting past the other students who lay scattered across the gardens. Malfoy’s stupidly brilliant hair was almost golden in the warm sunlight as he glided over to where she and Luna sat by the lake. He looked angry. 

“Granger,” he snapped, fists in his pockets and robes billowing in the wind. 

He looked like he was about to hex her and Hermione felt a sudden rush of relief. They'd fixed him. Malfoy was back to being a righteous prick and a sorry excuse of a wizard. She almost smiled. 

“You won't believe what absolute  _ garbage _ they tried to sell me,” the blonde continued much to her dismay, huffing as he dropped his lanky form down to the grass beside her. 

Luna looked wildly excited and Hermione forced herself to suppress the groan growing in her chest.

“So far this day has been mighty fucking awful!” Malfoy continued snappishly. “McGonagall told me I've lost my mind! Can you believe that? What kind of  _ hallucinogens  _ does one have to be on to come up with such jargon? I'm right as rain, obviously. She can't even explain why she thinks I'm different. Said my personality is  _ off kilter _ . Like as if I know what that means.”

Hermione let the groan escape her lips, closing her eyes to the stares of the other students lounging around them. 

Malfoy seemed to take it as a response to his complaints. 

“It gets worse, hold on. These two… two lumbering  _ goons _ have been following me around all day,” he continued, looking over his shoulder as if they were about to pop out from behind a tree. “They don't say anything, they just… follow me. It's eerie. And this girl, Merlin this  _ girl-,” _

“Pansy Parkinson perhaps?” Luna asked innocently.

Malfoy gave her a cursory glance. “Possibly. She got a ditzy voice?” 

“And a pug nose?” Luna added.

“Short black hair?”

“Banshee laughter?” 

“That's the bitch,” Malfoy snorted. “Say, who are you?”

“Luna Lovegood,” the Ravenclaw smiled back. “We've been close friends since I cleared your dorm room of a poxie infestation.”

“Luna!” 

“What?” the girl shrugged. “It's almost true.”

“What are poxies?” Malfoy interrupted.

Hermione shook her head tightly. “Nothing. They aren't real- they're something Luna made up.”

Malfoy seemed to truly consider this. “How can you be sure?”

“What? Sure of what?” Hermione asked, bewildered. 

“That they aren't real?” Malfoy replied casually. “I mean, most magical creatures remain undiscovered due to unique traits that are unknown to wizardkind-,”

“I'm going to stop you right there,” Hermione sighed. “And tell you straight up that you aren't friends with Luna and she has never cleared your dorm of any creature infestations, real or imaginary.”

“Were you having a laugh at me?” Malfoy frowned, turning to glare at the Ravenclaw. “Rude.”

Luna pouted in the face of his dismay and Hermione's looks of severe disappointment, before gathering her books and scrambling to her feet. 

“You two are no fun,” she laughed quietly, before skipping away from them. “I have to meet Neville to name his new mandrake. Stay safe and keep away from weasels!”

“What's she on about?” Malfoy scoffed. “There aren't any weasels out here.”

Hermione groaned. “Ignore her. Listen Malfoy, you can’t just come up and talk to me like that.”

The blond shot her an irritated glare. “Like what? Like a normal person? I was perfectly polite, Granger. I don't know why you think I'm some crass human being-,”

“Malfoy!” the Gryffindor grumbled in annoyance. “You  _ are _ a crass person!”

“Damn I didn't take you for such a  _ bitch, _ Granger!”

“I'm not. But you are crass. You act like you own this school and you never talk to anyone outside of Slytherin or anyone who isn't a rich, Pureblood  _ bigot _ . In fact, you only ever mock everyone else. And guess what? You  _ hate _ me. You hate my guts. I think it's even safe to say you want to see me dead. And that's the  _ truth _ .”

Malfoy looked like she'd socked him in the face- which she had one time and he looked almost exactly like he did back then. 

“You can’t be serious-,”

“Look around you,” Hermione said seriously. “See all those people staring at us like the Squid has just surfaced? They're shocked out of their minds seeing you speak to me. You hate muggleborns and you notoriously hate  _ me _ . And that's just reality for everyone else but you. And I'm sorry you don't know that part of yourself right now, but you can't come to me to talk about it, okay? Just… just find Pansy Parkinson or something. She might not listen, but she’d probably suck your dick or something.”

The blonde seemed disgusted at the idea but didn't protest as she hastily picked up her things and rose to her feet. Around them, voices hushed as everyone strained to hear their bizarre interaction. 

“Sorry this happened to you Malfoy,” she muttered, almost sincerely.

The blonde shook his head in protest. “You won't even try to help me figure out what's going on?”

“It is rather all your fault,” she replied. “And there's also the fact that the real you would  _ never _ stoop so low as to ask a muggleborn for help. This isn't what you truly want Malfoy.”

“Fancy of you to tell me what I want,” he hissed back, glaring at young Colin Creevey who was ogling them from some distance away. 

“Trust me,” she snapped in return. “You don't even know who you are. It's the whole school’s word against yours. Ask around. You'll see.”

“Will they all tell me how much of an asswipe I am?” he asked, voice a sneer despite sounding somewhat resigned to his apparent fate. 

“You're not just an asswipe, Malfoy,” she sighed in irritation. “You're the absolute worst thing in this school apart from the basilisk that tried to kill us in second year.”

With that said, Hermione quickly rushed away from the confused Slytherin as fast as her feet would take her. The crowds of students lying about on the grass immediately picked up their gossip as she strode past and she could swear she heard someone faint in the distance. 

If she could just make it to Transfiguration without being accosted by anyone, then maybe this nightmare of a day would end soon. 


	2. The Assignment

The air at breakfast was unimaginably uncomfortable to say the least. Everyone was deep in conversation about yesterday's dramatic turn of events; whole hordes of Hufflepuffs regaling each other with stories about how they'd crossed the big bad Malfoy and not gotten their arse handed back to them in return. One Ravenclaw was spreading a tale of her literal run in with the Slytherin, saying that he had actually helped her pick the books she'd dropped when she'd walked into him. She said she was so surprised that she'd dropped them all over again but Malfoy had just muttered something about butterfingers and charmed them to hover around her before walking away. 

"Isn't that wild, Hermione?" Lavender giggled as she finished retelling the story to her. "Imagine running into Draco Malfoy like that in a hallway? It's almost like a page from a Lockheart novella!"

"My run ins with him haven't ended so romantically, unfortunately," Hermione muttered in return, sliding into her seat at the Gryffindor table.

Lavender followed a little less gracefully, turning her body around to peer at the Slytherin table even before she was fully seated. 

"Yes well," she mumbled back, busy searching the crowd for Malfoy, no doubt. "That sounds like a  _ you _ problem."

"Alright there, Lav?" Ron asked, mouth full of grits. "Is it normal that I can see the back of your head at the same time as your tie?" 

"Sod off, Ron," Ginny chortled. "You're not looking at her tie!"

"I just meant she looks like someone screwed her on the wrong way!" her brother protested in return.

Ginny's eyes widened at that and she  _ cackled _ . "Oh dear brother, isn't it your job to screw her right?"

Ron choked on his breakfast at that and even Harry couldn't stop laughing long enough to help him. Hermione was mostly just pretending to be disgusted, so she took on the responsibility with a sigh and quietly cast the charm to release whatever was clogging her friend's windpipe. Ron spat his food across the table, hitting Lavender in the face and successfully drew her attention back to him. 

"Yuck, Ronald!" she gasped in disgust. "Your food's supposed to go  _ inside _ you!"

The rest of the table dissolved into raucous laughter, and for a moment it felt as if everything was normal. Hermione sighed happily, served some toast and beans onto her plate and was about to dig into her breakfast when everything went tits up again.

"I'm  _ telling _ you woman, please keep your hands  _ out _ of my pants or I  _ shall  _ tell Professor McGonagall and you  _ will _ be expelled!"

Despite the authoritarian tone, demanding quality of the remark and the underlying threat, Hermione knew the speaker was still in the same strange mindset as yesterday.

The New Broken Draco Malfoy had just stormed in for breakfast and he was not having any of Pansy Parkinson's wanton behavior it seemed.

Hermione could care less about his newfound distaste for the type of feminine attention he usually received, so she tried to turn back to her toast. 

Pour some beans on top, cut it all into little squares. Chomp, chomp, chomp and then she'd be free of this wild drama that had befallen them all. The rest of the Hall was weirdly silent; no doubt taking in the strange argument that echoed around the room. Hermione did her best at ignoring the awkward lack of conversation, focusing on Ron's face instead of giving in to the urge to twist around like Lav had so she could openly stare at the Slytherin table as well. 

"So Ron," she began with some urgency. "Did you manage to do your Arithmancy homework?"

No response from the redhead. She should have expected it, especially since she knew the answer already.

"Harry? What about your… um, that chess game with Dean?"

"Mione, not now," he muttered back absently, trying to peer over her head.

Hermione gritted her teeth. She hadn't wanted to stoop this low, but now she would have to pull out the big guns.

"Ginny… how's Quidditch coming along?"

"Hermione, you know I love you," the other girl started with a heavy sigh, eyes leaving the spectacle across from them to level a glare at her friend. "But you gotta read the room, honestly. Can't you see there's something way more interesting- and oh my  _ fuck _ what happened- why is he walking over to  _ us? _ What did I miss?!"

Hermione didn't have enough time to fully understand what Ginny hissed towards the end of her rebuke, so she was rather unprepared to see Malfoy looming beside her.

"Hello," he said to Lavender with determination. "Would you mind terribly if I just squeezed in between you and Granger?"

Lavender stared up at him as if he had asked her to hand over her newborn or be cursed in return. 

"N-no," she stammered, as Hermione snapped a harsh  _ yes _ .

"Thank you," Malfoy said in what sounded like it could be an actually sincere tone of voice, stepping over the bench and settling down at the  _ Gryffindor table _ with all the  _ Gryffindors _ that absolutely and most certainly  _ hated his guts. _

"Finally," he sighed as a plate appeared before him. "I'm bloody starving."

The entire table seemed to have frozen at his appearance, watching with mouths wide open as he began to serve his meal. Neville's food dribbled sadly from his fork as his eyes tracked Malfoy's every movement. The blond reached for the sausages and Dean almost flinched away from him. It was difficult to say if the Slytherin noticed their ridiculous reactions and was trying to save face for them all, or if he was truly oblivious to their collective shock. 

"Pass the toast mate?' he asked suddenly.

Everyone at the table snapped their eyes from him to Ron, who sat directly beside the tray. 

Ron looked at the toast with wide eyes, clearly trying to judge if he were closer to it than anyone else.

Malfoy noticed his hesitance. "You can just toss one over. Or two."

Harry started to squirm, eyes darting from Ron to Malfoy and back to Ron. The whole table held their breath in return.

Hermione was about to scream from the building tension after a few excruciating seconds of this impasse when Ginny,  _ blessed Ginevra Weasley, _ shot up from her seat.

"Come on then," she snapped, grabbing two slices of toast and tossing them gently towards Malfoy. "The man asked for some fucking bread.'

The blond caught them with ease and nodded at her.

"Thanks, um you," he said in return.

"Ginny," she huffed as she sat back down sharply, flipping her long braid over her shoulder for effect. "Ginny Weasley. And the pleasure is all yours."

"Undoubtedly," Malfoy smirked in return, tucking into his meal with care.

This was the last straw for Hermione. While the rest of the table slowly eased up once they realised there were no signs of a fight brewing, Hermione began to tense up further. Just the sight of him sitting there, elbows brushing hers as he ate so… so  _ methodically-  _ it hurt her brain to adapt to this new reality. 

So she pushed as much toast as she could into her mouth, mumbled something or the other at the table in general and quickly stood up to leave.

"Finished breakfast already?" Malfoy asked, and she made the mistake of looking down at him.

He looked mildly panicked, as if he'd expected her to stay longer. She realised belatedly that he had probably come all the way here just to sit next to  _ her- _ the only person he was comfortable with in this strange new world he was thrust into. 

The thought made her nauseous.

So she just nodded and tried to smile around the mouthful of toast in her face before turning and rushing from the Great Hall. Hermione had always known she wasn't all that great at physical activity, but since of late she'd been doing an awful lot of running. 

One could only hope it paid off.

* * *

  
She scarpered from History of Magic like a fiendish gnome, scuttling into a cave. She felt very terrible about how she was sneaking around, but she had very good reasons. Very, very good reasons.

It would most likely destroy the entire school's collective minds if she were to allow anything remotely civil to form between Malfoy and her, so she took to rushing from her classes in order to avoid unnecessary confrontation, and hiding in class to stay out of view.

History of Magic had been easy since they shared it with Ravenclaw, but she'd been stressed the whole time and had barely been able to keep up with Professor Binn's rapid fire question round. Of course she'd got all the right answers, but she knew she'd been rather slow and it bothered her minutely.

The Potions classroom was empty when she tiptoed in, and it made her feel silly for being so stealthy and quiet. Pulling out her books, Hermione sat down in her usual place with a sigh. The Slytherins always sat toward the back of the class, so their physical distance might give her a reprieve from Malfoy's questing friendship. 

She worked on her notes until people started to filter into class. She'd already told Harry and Ron that she would keep a place for them beside her, and immediately turned to face the boys when one of them plonked into the chair she'd reserved for them.

"This is getting embarrassing," Malfoy gritted out when she yelped into his face.

"Sorry!" Hermione managed. "I wasn't… wasn't expecting you, to be honest."

"Your evasive skills leave much to be desired, Granger," he said derisively, and it almost reminded her of the good old times.

"I don't need you to tell me how to be sneaky," she grumbled. "Although a snake  _ would _ know how to slither around."

Malfoy looked at her in amusement. "Are you always this snarky?"

"What? I'm not- that is… I'm only snarky to you!" Hermione sputtered indignantly. "Because you're a right arse to me!" 

"I didn't start this," Malfoy frowned. 

"You haven't always been this way," she complained, turning to glare daggers at her desk. 

"Ah yes," she heard Malfoy say bitterly. "Because I was a right twat apparently."

"Not apparently," Hermione countered with some vehemence. "Actually. Nobody in this room would contest how awful you were. There is no exaggeration when I say you were righteously bigoted and violent about it too. Both verbally and physically, and-,"

"Ok, ok I get it!" he snapped suddenly, hands gripping the table top with enough force to make his knuckles whiter than they normally were. 

Hermione reared back, suddenly aware of how tense the boy was. 

He was sitting so close to her, he could easily reach out and hex her, or smack her six ways to Sunday. If he was the type to hit girls, that was. She wasn't sure whether he did that. She wasn't sure of anything anymore. 

"You can stop looking so scared," he muttered, dragging her from her thoughts. "Although I can't imagine why- oh nevermind. I can take a wild guess."

He sounded so forlorn it almost tugged at her heartstrings. Was it fair of her to impose his previous behaviour on this unassuming version of him? Or was it only right? It couldn't be correct to dupe him like Luna had tried, or to casually converse with him like Ginny had done. It wasn't right to just forget everything he had done was it? Especially since he wasn't addressing it either. 

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry you had to know me," Malfoy said as she spiralled into her head again. 

He was collecting his books, preparing to vacate her seat. She watched him rise, seeing Harry and Ron also stand up from their newfound places to the left of her periphery. 

She had almost let out an uneasy sigh of relief when the doors to the classroom swung open and Professor Slughorn tottered in, already beaming at the class in general.

"What a wonderful day for potions making!" he declared brightly. "If masters Potter and Weasley could take their seats, we may begin shortly- oh! Mister Malfoy, is something the matter?"

Hermione almost teared up at how concerned the teacher seemed, cautiously approaching the two of them in confusion. 

"No sir," Malfoy responded dutifully. "Just finding a place to sit."

"Well, Miss Granger seems to be without a partner today," the professor began hesitantly. 

Hermione shook her head as Malfoy protested as well. 

"Oh no, well you see- I'm not… we're not… I was going to sit somewhere else, you see," the blond stammered, eliciting a few snickers from his fellow Slytherins for his ungraceful response. 

Even Slughorn had to crack a smile. "Come now, take your seat. I have no opposition for two perfectly capable students to pair for assignments."

Slughorn tossed Hermione another friendly smile before hauling his weight to the front of the class, hands clasped before him in glee. She sucked those hypothetical tears of thankfulness back into her skull in return. 

"Today, children, we brew the Draught of Living Death!"

His decree was met with varying levels of dismay, Ron being particularly the loudest. 

"Now Mister Weasley," Slughorn chided. "Choose either Mister Potter or Mister Longbottom to start on your potion with. Alright, you've chosen Mister Potter, which leaves Longbottom to… oh just choose the person to your left, everybody. That should do it."

Hermione looked at Malfoy and met his tentative grin with a scowl of her own.

The professor turned to the chalkboard and began to list out the requirements for their assignment. 

"You may look at your textbooks for the ingredients only, but no peeking at the brewing process! Extra points to those who do not use it at all! Let's try and finish under an hour!" Slughorn boomed over the noise of students scrambling to the cupboards frantically and grabbing everything they saw.

"And let's put twenty points up for grabs shall we?" he added heartily. "Twenty points to the most accurate brew!"

Hermione remained in her chair, listing out the necessary items on a clean parchment with care while the others raced around.

"Shall I go get them?" Malfoy prodded after a minute or so of watching her do this.

"I'm just trying to do this without the textbook," she grumbled in return. "If you must do something, then prep the cauldron."

Malfoy curled his lip in distaste. "I'm perfectly capable of retrieving the ingredients, Granger. Do you think I'm a simpleton?" 

"Alright then," she huffed in challenge. "What are the ingredients we need? And how many of each?"

"You're joking," Malfoy sneered. "I'm not reciting the whole list to you."

He shook his head in annoyance and turned on his heel, probably to head off in search of another partner. Hermione scowled internally. Let him sod off, she could damn well do this on her own.

She pulled her heavy cauldron out onto the table, casting the necessary charms to ensure it was clean and ready for brewing. She had just laid out the rest of her utensils when a figure jostled her side, spilling various items onto the chopping board she'd just placed neatly on the table. 

"What-,"

"Infusion of Wormwood, root of Asphodel, Valerian root, Sopophorous beans and one nice, juicy sloth brain," Malfoy said in a strange tone of voice.

She looked up at him and noted with dismay that he was smug. And not in a sneering hostile way, no, he was… he was  _ teasing  _ her.

"So," he prompted after her silence had become a tad bit uncomfortable. "Is that all you wanted Granger? Do I pass your little test? Can be a part of the brewing process now, or do I still have to scrub the cauldron?"

His cheeky smirk made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. 

"Enough, enough," Hermione gritted out through clenched teeth, watching him snicker to himself at her reaction. "So you know what we need to brew it. Not the highest of accomplishments but it'll do."

She continued to grumble under her breath as she pulled the ingredients closer, starting to prep them even though her shoulders were tense and her back ramrod straight.

"Interesting," Malfoy drawled after a while, his hands busy with delicately powdering the root of Asphodel with his marble pestle and mortar. "I was under the assumption you had to crush the beans, not chop them into bits."

Hermione felt her hair start to frizz under her stress. 

"The instructions require us to extract the juice. I'm extracting the juice."

"Well it looks like you're indulging in a massacre from here, but sure. You're the boss," he said mildly.

Hermione cut another bean, eyeing her silver knife with some doubt. She knew she should stick with her gut and what she had studied, but she couldn't help glancing around at the other students. 

Neville and Seamus's cauldron was almost filled to the brim with entire beans, Dean and Lav were squabbling over the sloth brain, and behind them the Slytherins seemed to be struggling as well. Theodore Nott was complaining as Parkinson stood almost five feet away from him, holding her nose as if she smelled something bad. Zabini had the misfortune to be paired with Millicent Bulateode, and looked sorely uncomfortable with the way she was crushing the roots with her bare hands. 

Hermione winced as she scoured the room some more, and thankfully caught sight of Ron and Harry before she could be distracted by the way the others were struggling drastically with the rather tough assignment. 

Ron seemed to be in the process of crushing the root too, albeit with much less grace than Malfoy even though she hated to admit it. She had almost given up on them as well, until she noticed Harry hunching over the beans. He was awkwardly pressing the side of the silver blade against the ingredients, squashing them under the force of his palm. 

She turned wide eyes to her own potions partner, and wilted when she saw him staring right back at her, a small smirk in place.

"Still going to insist on laying waste to our precious beans?" he asked casually, tapping the pestle against the side of the bowl to release the fine powder that still clung to it.

Hermione bit her lip. "What is that about? Crushing the beans and not cutting them? I swear we're supposed to cut it, not crush it. I read the textbook back to front!"

She knew she sounded almost petulant now, but she couldn't understand what Harry was doing and why Malfoy had mentioned a similar technique.

The blond shrugged artlessly, moving to prepare the sloth brain. "My godfather is a potions master."

"Your godfather taught you a complex sixth year potion that induces a death like coma?" Hermione scoffed in disbelief. "Not bloody likely."

"He brews many potions," Malfoy shrugged in return. "I have watched his process for many years."

"Then surely he must use the published recipes!" she argues.

Malfoy seemed unconcerned, already pouring the standard potioning water into the cauldron. "He had his own manuscripts as far as I know. Now are you going to prove your worth to our cause Granger, or am I going to be the one dragging us to victory?" 

His words snapped her from the momentary distraction and she turned back to the beans with renewed energy.

"Fine," she spat. "So we crush them. No big deal. No big deal… even though it could potentially destroy our cauldron and maybe even the  _ entire classroom _ ."

Malfoy laughed at that. An actual honest laugh.

She looked up at him alarmed, watching as his eyes crinkled back at her in mirth.

"You're something else, Granger," he said, shaking his head. "Stop getting distracted and crush those beans, will you? You can keep complaining if that will make you go faster."

The smirk he gave her was a knowing one, and she found that she did not like it in the least. Swallowing her rebuttal for the sake of the assignment, Hermione filed away the notion that she had somehow made Draco Malfoy laugh at something that wasn't her own misfortune, and continued mashing up the beans.

Forty five minutes later they stood around their cauldron, watching as it bubbled. Hermione scowled as she observed its color.

"If your weird new recipe gets us in trouble, Malfoy," she began, frowning at the boy. "I might actually have to kill you."

"Get your wand out of your arse, Granger," he waved off her threat with practised ease. "This potion will be the  _ best,  _ trust me."

His smirk was very much reminiscent of ye olde Malfoy; sharp and deadly like a shark waiting to pounce. Hermione suppressed a shudder at the sight. She'd never worked close enough to notice how worthy of a competitor Malfoy was. Or maybe it was that he'd never worked so honestly before. Professor Snape had favoured him immeasurably when he'd been their Potions teacher, so maybe she hadn't had any reason to notice him at all. 

Nonetheless, his precision and attention to detail astounded her, despite his  _ rather creative _ approach. 

"And that's time!" their professor called, a shrill ringing sound emanating from his wand. "Let's see what you all managed, shall we?" 

Slughorn began making his way down the line of tables, his brows raising higher and higher with each cauldron he peered into. 

"My, my, Mister Longbottom," he muttered. "That's a particularly… intriguing shade of puce."

Neville looked like he wasn't sure if he'd been given a compliment. Dean beamed with pride.

"Ah, I'm afraid I cannot grade plain potioning water," Slughorn told Seamus and Parvati. 

It continues in this way until he stopped by Ron and Harry. The redhead was standing stock still, probably even holding his breath. His hair was singed and his shirt rumpled as if he'd had to fight the ingredients into submission. Harry looked no better either. His glasses were skewed, his tie was nowhere to be seen and his sleeves were stained with what looked like sloth brain juice. Ew.

Slughorn looked mildly concerned at their appearances, but his expression brightened as soon as he glanced at their potion. His excitement mounted as he rummaged in the pocket of his robes, producing a velvet pouch that appeared to be full of small, fresh leaves. He dropped a single leaf into the cauldron and everyone drew their breaths as they waited for the verdict. 

"Wonderful! How delightful! Looks like we have a successful brew! Of course it's not entirely finished, but that is a splendid shade of lilac, Mister Potter!" Slughorn gushed, beady eyes twinkling. "And Mister Weasley of course. Marvellous job, students. Ten points to Gryffindor for making it this far. Let's see about the other ten, shall we?"

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. 

"What?" she seethed. "Those two brewed the potion correctly? Harry and Ron?!"

Malfoy scoffed lightly. "Patience Granger. Besides, Potter used his textbook the whole time."

Hermione bristled at that, and her arm itched to rise into the air and bring Slughorn's attention to the possibility of Harry cheating. 

Malfoy seemed to read her mind however and placed a hand on her elbow, eyes still trained on Slughorn as the professor continued across the room with his critique. 

"Don't do anything stupid," Malfoy muttered under his breath.

Hermione rolled her eyes and made a face at his tone. "I never do anything stupid."

"Knowing you, I would beg to differ."

"You don't know me Malfoy. You don't even know who  _ you _ are."

The Slytherin just coughed a little laugh in return. 

All too soon their squabbling was over and they were staring up at Professor Slughorn themselves, feeling for all the world like little bugs under a microscope.

"Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy," he said in greeting, seeming a little too excited. "I must say you two working together was such a lovely sight. It's always more than welcome to see students working in unity in my classroom."

Hermione thought he was laying on the praise a little too thickly. She hardly wanted a Slug Club invitation at this point- just a validation that her efforts were superior to her friends would be enough. Her competitive streak had been stoked, and she knew that as much as she loved them, her best friends were rather incapable of such a feat without  _ some _ assistance. 

"Thank you, sir," Malfoy spoke up on her behalf. 

"Well let's see how you did," Slughorn announced, glancing at their potion. "Hm… what an interesting outcome. That's as clear as glass! Could it be a finished potion, or am I looking at plain potioning water again, hmm?" 

His attempt at a joke fell rather flat; Hermione could only offer a wry smile in return. Her nerves had come back with full force and she had to bunch her clammy palms into her skirt to keep from pulling at her already frizzy hair. Malfoy on the other hand looked perfectly calm and poised. The nasty ferret. 

The leaf went into the cauldron and they both glared at it, watching as it sunk a little into the liquid before dissolving entirely. Hermione felt her heart leap with excitement before she chanced a glance up at her teacher in anticipation.

Even Slughorn looked a little stunned.

"Well. It seems we have a perfect brew. My… how rare is this? A Draught of Living Death made in exactly an hour. With no use of a textbook to boot! And I can tell that it is very potent indeed. Students, I dare say just a drop of this could kill us all!"

Hermione would have begged to differ at any other time, given that the potion was inherently a  _ sleeping _ potion, but could not find it in her to be a killjoy. Instead, she beamed under the praise, ducking her face low to hide the blush that stained her cheeks.

"I am utterly blown away by this brew," Slughorn commended them. "I dare say this might be our winning team!" 

He gave them a knowing wink before continuing on to Zabini and Bulstrode's wretched looking cauldron. The two Slytherins threw them nasty sneers, catching Hermione a little off guard. 

She turned to her potions partner and was met with the trademark Malfoy smirk. 

"Alright," she huffed. "Quit looking so smug."

"I hate to say I told you so, Granger," he smirked lazily, sitting back in his chair and kicking his feet up onto the table. 

She had to bite down on the sudden urge to smile. "But?"

"But nothing. I told you so."

"Prat."

"Stuck-up."

She couldn't fight the grin that broke across her face at that, the reality of their achievement taking over her urge to mock Malfoy. 

"We really  _ did _ brew a complete Draught of Living Death, didn't we?" she gushed, cheeks flaming again.

Malfoy glanced at her and offered a weak grin, looking bashful for some odd reason.

"You did most of the work," he said with forced nonchalance. 

Hermione reeled for a moment, before surprising herself and slapping Malfoy's arm.

"Sod off!" she scowled. "We wouldn't have gotten anywhere without your uncle's recipe, and you know it."

"Godfather," Malfoy corrected with a laugh, rubbing his arm. "And alright then,  _ we _ did a bloody great job."

"Damn straight!" she agreed, haughtily lifting her nose in a mockery of his snooty behaviour.

Malfoy didn't seem to get the joke, but he laughed anyway, raising a hand into the air. She grinned back viciously, smacking her own palm against his in a way that stung her skin but made her heart race in excitement and pride. 

"Well since most of you managed to create either muck, goo or just water, and two teams managed to outdo my expectations by miles" Slughorn said suddenly, drawing their attention to the front of the class. "I find that I have to amend the rewards, if only to be fair. So Mister Potter and Mister Weasley will keep their ten points, considering their brew did function and was mostly complete, but Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy will take twenty points for their brilliant brew. Each. Twenty points to Gryffindor and twenty to Slytherin. Well done students, I expect more of this in the days to come. I will see you all for the next class. Miss Bulstrode please clean that spilled potion from your desk and Mister Nott I need to speak to you about the proper handling of sloth brains."

The classroom erupted into noise as soon as he was finished speaking and the students began to pack up their supplies.

"Go team!" Hermione cheered under breath, grinning stupidly into her cauldron as she spelled it clean.

Malfoy rolled his eyes as he sealed the vial containing their potion with a cork. "You're unstoppable, Granger." 

"I'd like to think so," she preened, pushing the rest of her notes and utensils into her book bag. 

"Mione," Harry called, marching up to them with a strange look on his face.

"Harry," she beamed, already having glossed over his victory due to her comparatively larger success. "Congratulations on a well brewed potion."

"Not as great as yours apparently," he said somewhat bitterly. "How did you do it so well, or should I have expected the brains of Gryffindor to knock it out of the park?"

It sounded like he was joking, but Hermione detected a hint of annoyance in his otherwise blasé tone.

"I think having a decent partner for once really does kick everything into high gear," she muttered, eyeing her friend's face for any signs of hostility.

"Ah yes," Harry said, looking directly at Malfoy. "Your new partner. Can we speak, Mione? In private?"

Malfoy raised a careful brow at his request while Hermione sputtered indignantly. 

"Honestly Harry, must you be so rude-,"

"I was just taking my leave, Potter," the Slytherin said amicably, although his stance had stiffened imperceptibly. "Hold on to that textbook, eh?"

With that the blond strode away, robes fluttering around his tall frame as he cut a path through the swarming students with his reputation alone. 

Hermione transferred her flat from Malfoy's retreating back to Harry's startled face.

"What do you reckon he meant about my textbook?" the boy asked, adjusting his crooked glasses.

"I don't know, you tell me," Hermione countered, hiding her scowl the best she could. "And why did you dismiss him like that? He was a rather good partner and I don't think I could stand it if I had to work with anyone else again."

"Mione, that's  _ Malfoy _ ," Harry stressed, looking over at her with concern. "You can't seriously be teaming up with him now."

"I'm not teaming up with him," she insisted, collecting her book bag and shouldering her way out of the classroom violently. "I'm hardly civil to him either, but it doesn't mean I can't recognise talent when I see it. He's a right arse and I'll remind him of it, but I'm capable of working with people I don't agree with, Harry. You should try it sometime."

"Hard pass," her friend winced, following her rampaging path with ease. "And we managed the potion ourselves, Ron and I. Wouldn't it be easier to brew with your friends? All the points would go to Gryffindor too!"

"Harry, you still smell of sloth brain," she grimaced, wrinkling her nose as she pulled to a halt. 

"Oh. Yea. Maybe you could spell it off me?"

Hermione sighed and drew her wand, using a Scourgify spell to clean his shirtsleeves. 

"Better?" she asked.

"Immensely," Harry beamed back. "So what about it? Can we partner again?" 

Hermione felt as if she should agree, but she remembered the textbook Harry had supposedly cheated with and desperately wanted to hold him accountable for it somehow. She was torn between accusing him directly and glossing over it, when Ron practically barrelled into them both, knocking her off her feet and shoving Harry into a pillar.

"Fight," the redhead panted. "There's a fight! Malfoy hit Nott and now the Slytherins are beating him up!"

Harry scowled deeply, dismissing the situation already, while Hermione fought to suppress her concern for her strange potions partner. 

"Who cares, mate?" Harry shrugged, already turning to continue to their next class.

"Well Neville decided to take Malfoy's side and now he's in the bloody brawl too! It's a massacre, we've got to get in on it!" Ron gushed, tugging on both their arms in an effort to drag them in the direction of the fight. 

"We won't be joining anything," Hermione huffed, following with haste in hopes of reducing the damage done. "It's my duty to stop the fight as a Perfect, anyway."

"I say we walk away," Harry mumbled. "But Nev doesn't stand a chance without us-,"

He was cut off by a squealing sound, followed closely by a swarm of bats that spiralled out of a hallway before them, cutting past the trio in their hurry to escape. 

There was only one person who could cast a Bat Bogey Hex that strong, and all three of them came to the answer at the same time, facing each other with surmounting panic.

Ginny Weasley had entered the fight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. The Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updating!

Hermione stood in the infirmary for the second time that week, arms crossed over her chest and foot tapping impatiently against the wood flooring. 

"Miss Granger, I don't require someone to time the seconds quite so loudly," Madame Pomfrey hinted subtly as she bustled around the injured students. "But I might need an extra hand with these bruise salves."

Hermione huffed under her breath, but acquiesced nonetheless. Grabbing the tray of jars from the counter, she trailed behind the mediwitch as the elderly woman did her rounds, applying the smelly paste to wherever the students were minorly bruised. 

Neville cast her a shy smile when they stopped by his cot, and Hermione had to offer a wry grin in return.

"That was rather brave of you Neville," she murmured when Madame Pomfrey moved on. "Although immensely stupid at the same time. I never took you as someone who'd jump into a fight."

"Oh," Neville stammered. "Well. Um. Then there's a lot you don't know about me... I suppose."

His heavy blush confused her a little, and she almost offered to cast a diagnosis charm on him, if only to check why his pulse had picked up, when Madame Pomfrey's call cut through her concern.

"I'll be right back," she promised, before picking the tray yet again and hurrying to assist the nurse. 

It took ages to complete the process for the four other students involved in the brawl. Nott, Zabini and Millicent, the three Slytherin aggressors, all sat primly in their cots as Madame Pomfrey attended to them. 

Hermione stood to a side and tried her best to keep the sneer off her face, even though all her instincts urged her to swap their medicinal salves for itching powder. 

They moved on to the next bed and Ginny Weasley grinned back at her, sporting a big, purpling bruise on her forehead.

"Hermione! Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" she chirped, seemingly unaffected by the mediwitch's prodding. "Thanks for shielding me from that flying suit of armor, although I think its foot clipped me in the face. Better than the whole lot of it, I say. Good job breaking the fight up."

Hermione couldn't help but smile in return. She waited until the paste had been applied and the nurse had moved on to quickly speak to her friend.

"I can't believe you socked Millicent Bulstrode in the face," she laughed quietly. 

"Did you see my Bat Bogey though?"

"How'd you think we found you?"

The younger witch laughed at that.

"But what on earth was happening?" Hermione asked. "Neville, Malfoy and the Slytherins in a fight?"

"I don't know," Ginny shrugged, stretching her arms until something popped in her shoulder. "Ah, that's better. Anyway, I just heard Nev screaming and rushed over. Malfoy was trying to drag Zabini off the poor boy and I just had to butt in you know? Can't let anyone see a Slytherin saving a Gryffindor without some help, right? And there were three of them! Against puny Nev and Malfoy. I mean the ferret isn't so puny but he's a seeker and they  _ evade  _ if you know what I mean. What they needed was some bloody brute force."

Hermione shook her head wryly. "I suppose that's what you were there for."

Ginny only flexed an arm and winked. 

Shaking her head, Hermione shuffled away in search of the nurse to continue her ad-hoc duties. 

"And make sure to keep your hands to yourself next time!" Madame Pomfrey was muttering to Blaise Zabini, having already moved on to healing their cuts and wounds. "There, that's all done now. Oh, Hermione dear, I almost bumped into you. Do be a darling and maybe give me some space to work."

Hermione nearly scowled back. "Would you like your bruise salves back, Madame Pomfrey? Or are we letting the others suffer the consequences of their actions?"

"Miss Granger!" the old witch chided. "There's no one left to treat, so you might as well take your leave- Merlin knows you don't want to be here. You've made that clear enough."

Hermione tried to protest in self defense, but the nurse was all too keen to shoo her from the infirmary, and soon she was traipsing her way to the Gryffindor Common Room, deep in thought. 

She couldn't fathom why Neville had willingly joined a fight with Slytherins, let alone  _ any _ kind of fight. It also boggled her mind to think of why Zabini, Bulstrode and Nott would gang up on Malfoy. 

Had that really been what had happened, or was there something more complicated at play? 

Sure Malfoy had never been nice to his Slytherin counterparts in the past, and she wouldn't go so far as to call them all  _ friends _ , but there had been some sort of solidarity at the very least. 

She thought back to the spiteful looks Nott had thrown their way in Potions, the memory sending a small shiver down her spine. 

Slytherins were ruthless people, she surmised sourly. And no amount of pondering was going to solve them for her. No, she had to go out there and find one herself.

"Oh, you again."

She barely managed to look up in time to keep herself from clipping the speaker's shoulder as she walked straight into their path, stumbling in her confusion. At the last moment, a hand shot out and neatly grabbed her arm, forcefully depositing her to the side of the hallway.

"Sorry, I wasn't looking-," she stammered guiltily, a flush working its way down her face.

Malfoy didn't reply. 

He just kept walking, almost as if he hadn't even stopped in the first place. 

"Hey!" she called out hesitantly. "What's the big deal?" 

His shoulders rose imperceptibly, curling over himself, but the Slytherin made no sound to indicate he'd heard her and Hermione took that as an aggression to her person, storming after him in indignation. 

"I was speaking to you!" she snapped when she circled around him, hands on her hip for added effect.

"I politely decline the invitation," he sighed back.

It was only then that she took note of his face. It wasn't bruised or bloody anymore, probably having been healed recently, but the crude nature of the healing had left some distasteful results.

"Have you not been to the infirmary?" she gasped, restraining herself from reaching out to help like she would to Harry or Ron. "Your face… it looks really bad."

"Way to chat a bloke up, Granger," he huffed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling before stepping around her. "What did you want?"

"I'm sorry?" she sputtered, rushing to follow his longer strides.

"I asked you what you wanted. Why are you tailing me around?"

Hermione reared back a little, stung. "You were just in a fight!"

"I know, I was there."

"You weren't at the infirmary-,"

"I am fully aware."

"-and you look like you haven't healed yourself properly! Dammit, Malfoy I'm just trying to help. You look like shite, you know!"

"Well thanks for the heads up then, but I don't want your help," he said quickly, coming to a sudden halt. 

"What do you mean?"

"Please leave me alone. Don't you have some Gryffindor thing to do? That weird club of yours? Spit. Spud. Whatever."

His irritability threw her for a moment, and when she responded it was with a hint of hostility she hadn't been prepared for. 

"Fuck you, Malfoy. I was just being nice," she spat at him, feeling a myriad of emotions she did  _ not  _ want to unravel. 

"No you weren't," he countered. "But it doesn't matter cause I deserve it for being a shite person, apparently."

"That's not fair!" Hermione shot back. "You  _ were _ extremely awful until three or four days ago, it's not our fault nobody likes you-,"

"OKAY!" he roared suddenly, voice booming in the small hallway. 

Paintings adorning the wall all startled at the sound, scurrying across the frame to either hide or eavesdrop. Hermione stood still, shocked out of a response. 

"I get it!" Malfoy snapped, voice dropping to a low growl. "I understand I was a terrible person. I realise my behaviour must have been terrible given the way the junior students run away from me. But what do you want me to do, huh Granger? Beg for forgiveness? I don't even know what for!"

"Well what do you want  _ us _ to do? Forget you ever bullied us and hurt us and-,"

"Don't pretend like I asked for that," he scoffed in return. 

"You've been hanging around everyone, and… and trying to be my friend-," she began.

"And I am sorely sorry for the agony it might have caused," he interrupted swiftly. "I'm just asking to be left alone now. Is there any problem you might have with that, or can I safely assume that you didn't want to be around me anyway, given your constant protest to my presence?" 

Hermione bit her lip, unsure as to how everything had gotten so tangled up so fast. Malfoy took her silence as an answer and nodded tightly before stalking away with his moody demeanor. His bad mood clung to him like a cloud, but he'd left some of the gloominess behind with Hermione. 

She carried the ugly feeling to her next class, where she immediately slumped into her chair and proceeded to stoke the despair she'd recently acquired.

* * *

Harry and Ron appeared in the common room almost an hour after Quidditch practise was supposed to end, muttering loudly among themselves.

"- can't believe it didn't happen sooner!"

"Yes but infighting makes their whole structure collapse a little doesn't it?"

"I'm not sure Ron-,"

"Think about it. Their hierarchy isn't that complex really, and one piece with a lot of power has just fallen," the redhead explained, pulling a chocolate frog from the confines of his cloak and chomping on it. 

"Sometimes I swear you talk gibberish," Harry said, watching his friend in awe as they made their way over to the fireplace. 

"Tha's mostly when ah go' food in me mouf, innit? Oi Mione! Fancy seeing you here."

She threw Ron a wobbly smile. "Are you trying to break down the Slytherin pecking order?"

The redhead shrugged. "Nah. Just wondering why they all ganged up on Malfoy like that."

"I  _ told _ you why," Harry groused, collapsing onto the sofa. "It's because he's up to something with this memory loss shite."

"You really think so?" Hermione frowned, taking the bait as a silent apology for being sour to him earlier. 

"How else could this happen?" her friend responded, leaning forward conspiratorially. "I think he's faking it to get to us. Tell her what we talked about Ron."

"Oh, I think I've forgotten."

“What do you mean? We just-,”

“Plus, I know ‘Mione will hate it.”

" _ Ron. _ "

"It's your idea, you tell her!"

"Fine! I will."

Harry sniffed, drawing himself up higher before looking down at Hermione with his usual air of urgency.

"We think Malfoy is trying to infiltrate our circle to hurt us more than he could before," he revealed, raising a brow for dramatic effect.

"Our circle?" Hermione questioned. "And how would he do that?"

"He's already started, hasn't he?" her friend grumbled. "And there's no greater betrayal than from a friend."

"Malfoy's not trying to be our friend!" she protested quickly, feeling guilty for some reason. 

"I saw him being all nice and… and polite to you today," Harry groused. "Don't deny it, he was putting on the charm."

“He was not!”

“Oh come off it, Mione. Everyone can see he’s trying to get on your good side- everyone but you!” Harry countered eagerly.

"Well, he was a right arse after class so explain how that fits into your theory," she snapped a little tiredly, letting the day's frustration leak into her tone. 

"How come?" Ron asked, slumping into the sofa beside her. "You were both pretty chummy during Potions."

"Yes, but I saw him after the fight and he was… he was very different," Hermione lamented. 

“What an arsehole,” Ron commented dutifully.

"I… I might've got carried away and snapped at him a little," she muttered weakly in Malfoy’s defense. “But I didn’t expect him to be angry.”

"Was he mad at you?" Ron scoffed. "For what? You saved his arse from getting beaten to a pulp by his stupid friends."

"I think he doesn't know why he was beat up at all."

Ron hummed at that, before unpacking another chocolate frog and munching on its hind legs. "Maybe he just wanted a high grade for Potions, so he tried to be nice to you. But then he got shite for it from his Syltherin buddies and now he regrets it. Or something."

Hermione swallowed the growing sense of dismay at Ron's words, trying her best to ignore the hurt it caused. 

"Of course," she muttered. "That makes sense."

“I still think he wants to hurt us,” Harry muttered, unprompted.

Ron frowned. “I dunno… more than he’s hurt ‘Mione already?” 

“Hey! I’m not hurt, I’m just sad-,”

“He’s trying to break us from the inside out!” Harry argued, steamrolling over her lame protests. 

Ron snorted around his mouthful of chocolate. “Of course he is, mate.”

“Think about it-,”

“I’d really rather not.”

“You just want to daydream about LavLav’s arse.”

“Hey! Quit it. And don’t call her that.”

“Or what, Ronnekins?”

“I’ll show you what!”

“Ooh, is Ronnekins going to throw his freckles at me?”

Hermione could sense a tussle brewing and drew her feet up onto the sofa just as Ron tackled Harry to the carpet, wailing about honour. They hit the ground with a thud and Hermione could only watch as they struggled; loud boyish laughter breaking through their facade of anger. She honestly couldn't pretend to understand boys anymore. She also didn’t want to think of them either. 

The world had been simpler when she’d kept her face buried in a book. 

Oh how she regretted ever looking up. 

* * *

It was almost as if the world had spiralled out of control ever since Malfoy hit his head. Like as if Malfoy being a git in this universe was the one thing holding it together. Malfoy's shite behavior had to be the only thing keeping the world in one piece, because without it everyone was going absolutely barmy.

Breakfast the next day was eventful to say the least. Hermione had walked into the Hall expecting more tension and death threats from the Slytherin kerfuffle of yesterday, but was instead met with the sight of two Hufflepuffs making their way over to Gryffindor table, carrying their plates between them as they giggled inanely to themselves. It wasn’t a terrifying sight, or as worrisome as running into yet another fight, but somehow this stumped Hermione. She almost bumped into them, not having expected anyone moving in from that direction, and the girls seemed to panic a little at the sight of her as she careened out of their way. Or maybe they’d noticed her badge. Or her face.

Or her hair. 

She was very recognizable.

"Hey Granger," one stammered. "You alright?"

"Yeah we're just going over to sit by Poppy, sorry for getting in your way," the other girl piped in.

Hermione stared back in visible confusion. "Um, at the… ah, at our- I mean the Gryffindor table?"

The girls shared a terse glance before plastering on twin smiles. 

"Sure yeah," one said. "We saw umm… Malfoy sat by you that day and thought it was a new rule or something."

"Yeah for… for inter house friendship. Or something."

They threw two large grins at her then, seemingly confident in their explanation, and Hermione nodded just so she could get them out of her face.

"I don't see why that's a problem," she muttered, even though the girls had darted away already. 

_ What the heck had Malfoy done. _

It didn't take long after that to spot the Ravenclaws littering the Hufflepuff table, nor the Gryffindors mingling there either. The only table that was still a homogeneous mixture of a single house was the Slytherin table. They were a sea of green and hostile faces, glaring into their plates or at each other.

It seemed nobody wanted to share that warm,  _ welcoming _ space. Its occupants looked a little too pleased with their unspoken barrier.

"Where's Harry?" she asked hurriedly as she settled into her seat, wedging forcefully past a Ravenclaw deep in conversation with Seamus.

"Him and Gin went to eat with Luna," Ron offered, thankfully after swallowing his food.

Hermione scrunched her nose at that. "Why's everyone scattered all over? What's wrong with our usual seating?"

"Dunno. Guess they wanted to talk to Luna," Ron surmised plainly, clearly unbothered. "Makes sense, I suppose. Luna comes here all the time."

"You're right," Hermione mused. "She does. That's so strange I never thought about it. She always felt like one of us."

Ron threw her a strange look as he went about his meal.

"You? Er grea' 'ermione ne'er thof about somfthin?"

"Honestly Ronald, eat it, don't spray it," she scowled, for want of anything to say in return to his garbled words. 

"This is all because of Malfoy," she complained. "Where is he anyway? Probably being an arse to someone."

"I dunno why you're so worked up about this 'Mione," Ron frowned, swigging pumpkin juice from his cup. "It's not bothering anyone. I think they're having fun actually. Personally, I don't really care who I eat with, but I'm sure the twins wouldn't mind eating together now and again. And Gin can go meet Luna's friends. I dunno. Seems like a great deal."

Hermione sighed. "Of course, Ron. I'm not upset about that I just…"

She trailed off as she caught sight of someone entering the Hall, quietly slipping through with their head downcast and their robes pulled tight around their form. His stupid blond head was noticeable from a mile away though, so she had no trouble witnessing Malfoy scurrying into Great Hall like a rat in the night. 

Except he didn't look sneaky like the slithering snake she'd called him out to be. 

He was  _ hiding. _

She watched in dumb surprise as he slowly made his way to his house table, pausing only slightly before sitting at the very far end. All the Slytherins shot him venomous glares and Hermione could swear she felt the animosity oozing out of them.

But Malfoy lifted his head then, and met their glares with a stony face- all his features schooled into an impassive facade.

She almost gasped aloud at how much he resembled his former self. 

The harsh, fierce Malfoy was back, she realised, even though a strange feeling began to grow in the pit of her stomach. 

She was glad Malfoy wasn't so cheery and friendly anymore, but somehow this was worse. Seeing him sitting there alone, with his whole House looking down their nose at him- it was all wrong. Snooty, snobby,  _ elite  _ Draco Malfoy had become the outcast. 


End file.
